


Regular Light

by GiftsofGab



Category: Dying Light (Video Game), Regular Show
Genre: Dying Light - Freeform, Gen, Regular Show - Freeform, Video Game, cartoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:44:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8219665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiftsofGab/pseuds/GiftsofGab
Summary: A daydream taken too far, this story is the result of learning that Thomas/Nikolai's voice actor from "Regular Show" is also Kyle Crane in "Dying Light." What if these characters were one and the same?





	

“Well, Nikolai, you’ve done it this time,” the former Park intern muttered to himself in his thick Russian accent. “You’re the enemy of two nations and you’ve lost the only friends you’ve ever had.” He gave himself an ironic slow clap and sighed.

The bustling of the airport helped him clear his mind of the mad goings-on which took place the night before. The Park had almost been destroyed and an international war was nearly underway. He had managed to procure a plane ticket to escape the country before the warrant for his arrest went through.

With only his red duffel bag filled with a few articles of clothing, Nikolai trudged through the terminal to the gate. He had purchased the cheapest international flight available: one to the small middle-eastern nation of Suhat. “Wherever that is,” the spy frowned. He had no idea what waited for him overseas, but he was ready to start a new life.

***

Nikolai looked out the plane window. Beneath the few clouds in the sky, there lay a city. Its palette was made up of browns and slightly darker browns. The buildings were mostly made of earth, apart from a few shining skyscrapers and temples. Nikolai knew it would be dusty and hot.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching Jadir,” said a stewardess in both English and some language Nikolai did not recognize. “If you would please fasten your seatbelts, we will prepare for landing.”

Nikolai stepped out of the airport, duffel bag hanging from his shoulder. He sighed and started walking under the blazing sun. His sneakers collected hot dirt as he made his way into the broken town. He ordered some dinner at a restaurant, ate discreetly at a corner table, then was on his way back onto the streets.

That night, Nikolai purchased a cheap hotel room, thankful that American currency was welcome in this nation. He dropped onto the bed and emptied his pockets onto the nightstand. “$249,” he sighed. He knew a hotel would be a luxury he could only afford this one night, so he lay on the bed and breathed deeply. He appreciated the bed, despite its firmness, and prepared himself for whatever length of time lay before him where he would be without a place to sleep comfortably.

The next morning, Nikolai was back to wandering through the streets and shops around the town square. “Thank you,” he said in the native tongue, after overhearing the person in line before him. He scooped up the snacks and sandwiches he had just bought off the convenience store counter and dropped them into his bag.

As he stumbled along the roads, he noticed an electronics shop with a series of televisions in the window. The news station was on, relaying something about the military rolling through the area with large trucks and heavy artillery. Nikolai took a bite of an energy bar and watched, trying to learn a few words here and there. The news story changed, and he gagged on his snack and coughed. His photo came on the screen in front of a video of the Park. Over his picture was a telephone number, which he assumed was to contact police. Nikolai saw the shop owner approach the window from behind the televisions, with a suspicious scowl. The former agent raised his shoulders to hide his face a bit, then rushed away from the shop.

As he walked, hands in pockets, he noticed glances from people on the streets and peering out of their windows. Children whispered among themselves and scurried away from his path. Some people shut their window shutters, despite the heat. Nikolai scoffed. “Just how bad did they make me out to be in that report?”

Suddenly, he heard a voice shout, “Oi! You!” Nikolai turned and saw a large man across the street pointing at him. The man called for several of his friends, then started pursuit. Nikolai cursed and darted down the street. The group of middle-eastern men shouted for him to stop. Nikolai ducked down an alleyway, but the men followed. He ran past stacks of crates, which he pushed over to block the path. The men leapt over the boxes and continued the chase.

Nikolai saw a pipeline running along the side of a home. He sprung onto a trashcan and grabbed onto the pipe, then proceeded to climb it over the building. The men sneered as they watched the agent disappear over the edge of the roof. The large man motioned for his friends to seek another way around the alley.

Leaping from rooftop-to-rooftop, Nikolai saw his pursuers below, falling behind as they weaved in and out of alleyways. In the distance, he noticed a field of tall, yellow grass with a few trees. He managed to sneak down the side of a home via flagpole, then rush as fast as his feet would take him toward the field.

He has just dived into the prickly, dry grass with an “Oof!” as he heard the voices of several men approaching. They voices were angry and scattered, belonging to his hunters. Holding his breath, Nikolai hoped they would not be able to see him within the tall turf. To his relief, they wandered off in search for him among the village once more. He sighed, then crawled on his stomach towards a large tree. He sat out of sight, behind the trunk, until nightfall.

After this long wait, Nikolai checked that his surroundings were clear, then started running across the field. After nearly half an hour, he jogged to a stop when he reached a dirt plot of land surrounded by a chain-link fence. Beyond it was a massive warehouse sided with corrugated metal. Nikolai quickly scaled the fence and hopped over. He shot across the dirt work-yard to the warehouse door: locked. He warily crept around the building and found a section of the metal loose. He peeled back the panel and slid underneath, entering the silent building.

He looked around and saw the warehouse was mostly empty. Tall steel shelves lined the walls. Labeled boxes were stacked on the shelves and the floor beside them. There were wire spools, a forklift, and a few other objects typical of a storage warehouse.  
“So now there’s a bounty on my head,” he sighed, and sat on the hard, clammy concrete floor. “Well,” he thought aloud as he looked around, “this looks as good a place as any to lay low for now.” Nikolai shrugged off his duffel bag. He opened it and took out an energy bar.

***

A few months later, Nikolai was seated in a chair beside the large cable spool, which he was using as a table. Food wrappers and empty bottles littered the immediate area. He would sneak into town some evenings, buying from street vendors while wearing a bandana over his face, and he planned on doing it again this night, as he was running low on food.

Suddenly, there was a rustling at the door across the large room. It echoed throughout the metal warehouse: the sound of the door unlocking.

The warehouse door creaked open slowly. Having just dashed behind a stack of boxes, Nikolai could see a shaded figure searching for a light-switch. After a moment, the dim lights flickered on. The figure’s shoes clicked as they crossed the concrete floor. They stopped near the spool, among trash and a few of Nikolai’s belongings on the ground.

“All the crates and equipment seem to be in order,” a woman’s voice said into a walkie-talkie, tapping an empty snack package lightly. “But I’ll take a quick look around.” In a burst of energy, she kicked a glass bottle towards the corner of the room at the stack of boxes behind which Nikolai was hiding. He gasped and ducked, then rolled from behind the boxes, grabbing another beer bottle and smashing it onto the ground, holding the remaining, now-broken half in his fist.

“It’s you! Nikolai-”

“Back off!” he barked in his rough accent. He held the bottle defensively toward the mysterious woman, the broken end facing her.

In a flash, she had pulled a gun from the back of her slacks and was looking down the barrel at Nikolai’s eyes. “I don’t want any trouble,” she said.

“If you really know who I am, then you know there’s 20 ways I could get that gun away from you right now.” He gritted his teeth and scowled.

“I mean it: I don’t want trouble.” She put her hands up, then slipped the gun back into the rear of her belt.

Nikolai loosened up and lowered the half-shattered bottle. “What do you want?”

She studied the Ukrainian-born agent for a moment, noticing his tattered clothes and dirty body. “Looks to me like you’re down on your luck. But the world could use someone like you right now.”

“What do you mean?” he scowled.

“With the epidemic, we need heroes with your skill set.”

“What epidemic? What are you talking about?” he asked gruffly, setting down

“You really don’t know what’s going on in this country?” She looked astonished, which was the most emotion she had shown since her arrival.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to watch the news, lady.”

She smirked and thought for a moment. “How would you like a job?”

Nikolai scoffed and kicked away an empty bottle lightly. “I dunno, I thought I’d just live here for the rest of my miserable life, or until I got caught, so I think I’ll be skipping town now.” He stood up and started packing his few strewn items into his duffel bag.

“I’m not sure if you realize this, but this is private property of GRE, the Global Relief Effort. Granted, this warehouse has been out of use for some time, but given the recent crisis, we need it for research. So either you can listen to my proposition or you can consider yourself under arrest.”

“I think I’ll just be on my way, okay? If you’ll excuse me,” he threw his bag over his shoulder and moved for the door.

“I don’t think so, Nikolai.” The mysterious woman pulled a walkie-talkie from inside her blazer. “I’m requesting police assistance at warehouse #8,” she said coolly. Nikolai looked at her angrily.

“Copy that. There’s a squad car one block away, I will dispatch to your location.”

“C’mon, don’t do that!” Nikolai pleaded with the woman through gritted teeth, ready to run if necessary.

“Cancel that,” she said into the handheld radio. “Roger,” said the man on the other end.

“What do you want with me?”

“You successfully infiltrated an American establishment for months, then double-crossed a Russian terrorist organization. You’ve got some skill when it comes to agent work. We have a job I think you would fill out quite nicely,” she smirked darkly.

Nikolai sneered. He hated being reminded of the betrayal he committed at the Park.

“The best part is, you’ll have work in a place nobody will recognize you.”

This offer did sound too good to pass, though Nikolai had a suspicious feeling about the woman and the operation. “Fine,” he said after long hesitation. “I’ll do it.”

***

“About 150 kilometers from here is the city of Harran where you’ll be dropped,” said the enigmatic woman as Nikolai buckled into a parachute harness. Behind him was a small plane with a pilot ready to go.

“I hope you’ve been brushing up on that American accent. Slap that on, and anyone here will trust you. I’m sure it wasn’t hard to gain the trust of your former coworkers.”

Nikolai’s heart sank. He regretted all the lies, all the two-faced behavior that went on at the Park. Months had passed in Jadir of homelessness and training with the GRE, yet he cringed at the thought of his double-crossing each day. This woman made him feel like dirt, but so did MOMM and even his friends at the Park on occasion. He shrugged off the hard feelings and steeled himself for the jump and the mission ahead of him.

“We’ll give you another rundown on the info when you’re about to make the jump, so it’s fresh in your mind. As for your new identity, here.” She handed him a false U.S. driver’s license. “We’ll address you by this for the remainder of your mission.”

Nikolai saw his picture on the I.D. At the top was the name he would personify for the next few weeks. “Kyle Crane,” he said lowly in an American accent. The plane started up, propellers whirling faster each second. The woman exited and walked to a car waiting for her. “We’ll be in touch,” Nikolai heard her say over the communication device in his ear. As the plane doors were shut securely by a GRE agent, Nikolai took a deep breath and tucked his new identity into his shirt pocket.


End file.
